Wee and Buttery
by Lynny M
Summary: Oneshot story involving a sad and frightened newcomer... and a strange turtle from the sea who's willing to listen.


"Wee and Buttery"

An Animal Crossing fanfiction

Author's Notes: Yes, you heard right. Animal Crossing. A fine game, yes, but certainly not something that fuels my imagination to a great extent. Still, I managed somehow to come up with a pointless ditty around my favorite character - Kapp'n, the old cantankerous sea turtle.

Soundtrack: "An Gabhar Bán" _Celtic Tides _

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The ground came flying up at her, and she had a mouthful of sand. "Pllech!" Disgusted, she flailed to sit up. Wet grit stuck all down her legs and across her dress.

"Eww." It sounded more like a plea than an actual complaint. Just what she needed—not only was she lost, she was now also wet, and dirty. The perfect insult to injury. Groaning, she pushed herself up.

Her name was Lenora. She was new in town.

And to be truthful, she wasn't sure she liked it here. A nameless train, a nameless town—how old was she? Not old enough, that was certain. The hedgehog on the train had been right; living on your own was hard work. She was fifteen and already had a mortgage. And she had thought a thousand bells (saved in a piggy bank over the summer) was good financial padding. Hah! Tom Nook, the town handyman-slash-entrepreneur, took every bell as the down payment for the tiny house she kept. He expected another thousand every month. How could she pay that when she could not even afford food or a new set of clothing?

Of course, there were worse things than Nook. The residents disturbed her more than anything else. They were all animals; all were horse-haired, scaled, plumed, pawed, and clawed. Inside their friendly exteriors was a malignancy that Lenora has seen more than once on more than one occasion. They were shifty creatures—the cats, the rats, the rabbits...birds, gators, even a tiger—sweet but then bitter, glaring and insinuating. Their opinions were impossible to keep track of.

She knew they talked about her in her absence. They talked about every other animal. Look at so-and-so's clothes. So-and-so goes through my things when I'm out. So-and-so has no taste in furniture! Some criticized her debt, stating it was her fault for coming unprepared. Others disagreed with Tom, but did not sympathize with her.

Once, a cat had told her: "Your clothes are so ratty! Don't you have any sense of cleanliness?" Then, "You run back and forth between here and your house so often. Surely you must be working. Use your wages and buy a shirt."

Her dress _was_ ratty. And her hat. She would have to borrow someone else's clothes if she was going to wash these. The tide came in at her feet and she scurried along the beach.

She was lost because she has tried to—at least temporarily—escape the tyranny of the small town. Blindly walking, purposefully avoiding houses to avoid the pain and humiliation of another encounter. Her hunger had been monstrous since last night, so once she dared to pick an apple from a neighbor's tree. She devoured it, but she couldn't eat apples forever.

In short, a mile-long meandering walk had taken her to a scrawny beach. It was autumn now and mist rolled off the sea and into the hills. Falling in the wet hadn't made things any warmer. The waves were gray and dreary. This was as good a place as any to feel sorry for herself.

She kicked a seashell out of the way. It flopped out of its hole unceremoniously, an act as futile as her being down here. She should have been at home, packing her sordid items and catching the next train home. Had she the money for the ticket, she might be able to do so. Nevertheless, she felt trapped, and uneasily so, as if everyone was in cahoots against her.

Someone was singing.

She looked down one of the docks. She couldn't see anything. Compelled, she went forward, slowly stepping up onto the dike. It went out further than the more familiar fishing dock upstream, and she walked down slowly. The ocean beneath was chilly and opaque. Her sense of unease spiked; she felt dreadfully out of place, as if she were being watched.

"Afternoon, miss."

She jumped and jerked back. Alarmed, she looked over the edge of the dock and into the face of the most hideous animal yet.

"Pardon me, wee thing. I didn't mean to startle ye'." The speaker was turtleish; shelled and beaked with a bit of belly, lanky, with a crown of stringy black hair that sprouted from an otherwise bald head. He was smiling, or something close to it. He was sitting in a tiny fishing boat.

"Is this your dock?"

"No."

There was a moment of silence. The creature cocked his head. His eyes examined her from an odd angle.

"Missy," The turtle said. "You look a tad bit upset."

And this was true. Lenora tried to hide her embarrassment, the fact that she was put on the spot and expected to respond. She could not speak. The turtle-monster blinked.

"Hah? Miss, my name is Kapp'n, or at least that's what they call me. At your service should you need a ferry to an outlying island. Hmm?"

"No." She was afraid now, as much as she was sad. When she looked into his eyes, examined the horrible build of his body, noticed the webbing in his feet, she couldn't help but see flashing visions of children who ventured too close to the water, pulled in by monsters, fiercer copies of Kapp'n, pulled in and torn to shreds by that beak, entrails floating to the top of the lake, children who bled to death before they had the chance to drown.

But his expression rendered him harmless, if not a bit malicious. He was still waiting with a puppy-dog expression; not getting a response, he started again. "What's troubling you, little girl?"

"M' new here."

"And what about it?"

Lenora shook her head, confused and horrified. But the words came spilling out anyway. "I don't have any money for Mr. Nook!" She confessed. "I don't have any money for food and everyone here hates me! I swear they all do! They talk about me and they even say things to my face! My clothes are gross, and I'm scared! I don't even have a bed to sleep on! Nobody likes me or anybody else!" It was all true. Kapp'n twisted his head the other way and gazed at her for a long while. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked:

"Would you like to tell me about it?" He mentioned to the empty seat. "I'll take you 'round the inlet and further if you like."

Lenora had to pause. What did Kapp'n mean? Was it literal? Or just a ploy to get her within reach of those claws? Maybe he was a dirty old turtle who enjoyed the company of small girls?

But his face was too honest, too real. Maybe he was as lonely as she, just much older and with his own problems.

"Come on, ye wee buttery shad. I'll help you in. I hate to see something as beautiful as you weep." Before she could react, he hooked her around the knees and she buckled onto his shoulder. He sank back down and she settled into the empty seat as calmly as she could.

"Thank you."

"Aye, that's more like it. We'll take a cruise 'round the cays south of here, and you can tell me all about what makes y' sad."

He seemed both thrilled and relived, and at the same time, unsurprised. He took up a single oar and looked either way. Slowly they started out.

"Tell me, lass. D'ya like sea shanties?"

She had no idea how much she loved sea shanties.

- - - - -

END

Hmm. I'm quite indifferent, and very ready to return to a more fruitful category. But, still, I do enjoy Kapp'n...he says the _creepiest _things...Reviews make me happy. Thank you for reading.


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